The Maid of Bayeux
by SAINTIXE56
Summary: Set in Season 4. Siggy is now King Horik's new wife. Ragnar and Rollo carry on raiding England as an attempt on Dorestadt, the thriving Imperial harbor has failed. Kent is the next target when a tempest separates Rollo's long ship from the others. Using the historical Rollo story... Reviews welcomed. French writer
1. Chapter 1

The tempest was sudden, mercifully short. All the long ships were able to regroup quickly; all but one. The Kentish shores were inviting and begging to be raided. Odin had smiled on the warriors from Kattegat but for the ship which had carried the Saxon priest and Lodbrok's brother. Ragnar hoped the drowning had been quick. Today, all the prisoners would be sacrificed in Rollo's honour.

His nose was being tickled. Probably a prank of the youngest monk of Lindisfarne. A feather was rubbing his nose, a feather which smelled like sea salt and possibly some seagull backside. The next thing he felt was certainly not ticklish as a large rugged hand slapped his face.

"Wake up, Athelstan. The Gods have spared us. We must find Ragnar. Where do you think we are? South of Dover? Naaah."

The Saxon got up painfully. He could not believe they were still alive. The wave had broken the ship in two; by some miracle, the two men had grabbed the same oar and tried to reach the surface together to breathe and they had managed unlike the other raiders. Now, once again after Wessex and Northumbria, he was back in England. This time, the Men from the North were going to ransack Kent.

The cliff standing in front of the beach their exhausted bodies had reached, was tall, very tall though not as tall as the famous white cliffs of Dover. Shrugging his shoulders, the Saxon wondered why he would make such a pointless observation. If anything, the smaller cliff was going to make the raid easier for his new friends.

"Come, priest. Let's not waste time"

The two men started to climb up the steep path which was running down to the seashore almost vertically. They could not see down without falling or up without wringing their necks. Unsure of the path, they were walking in silence when they heard the voices.

"Apres la tempete d'hier soir, nous devrions trouver des coquillages interessants"

Athelstan stopped on his tracks as Rollo was showing him to try and hide in the foliage of the trees and bushes which were growing on the wall of the cliff.

"Nous devrions attendre les soldats de votre pere. Si jamais des hommes du Nord…"

The rest of the words was swallowed by the sharp breeze coming from the sea. Whatever was shared by the two women and missed by his ignorance of the Saxon language was making no difference to Rollo. If they screamed, he would kill them. And they were bound to scream soon as the stupid priest was standing rooted in the middle of the path.

"Move up, man!"

The tempest had spared them, but the Gods had played quite a trick on them.

"Rollo. Do nothing without my acquiescence. We have a big problem here"

The tall Viking stopped and looked at the Saxon; once again since his rescue from Wessex, the former monk was talking in riddles.

A sudden gasp coming in his back produced the apparition of the side dagger which has survived the sinking of his ship. Confronted with two Saxon women, probably the mother and the daughter, he decided to kill the crone and keep the young girl when Athelstan started to jabber the same incomprehensible language. Worse, the Saxon was kneeling and kissing the maid's hand like a frenzied dog.

" Rollo, you idiot. Do like me. Kneel and bow if you want to tell this story to King Horik."

The Norseman had no choice but bow as two and more armed men appeared on the path. He was unable to understand what was said; but for Athelstan who was excitedly waving his arms and showing the sea's vast expense. Here and there, a few words for his own benefit were uttered.

"Do like me. Avoid speaking as much as possible and look grateful!"

The women retreated on the path while the two men were invited to walk along with the soldiers. Athelstan was smiling like a mad man and inviting him to smile like him. Rollo's patience was growing thin when the Saxon's last sentences freezed him.

"Aren't we lucky, Rollo? We have survived the tempest and found safe haven on this benighted land ruled by Count Berenger. This young maid's father. We are safe from the wrath of the Normanni; here we are safe under the protection of the Emperor. Rejoice my friend. We are in Frankia where no Viking has ever been allowed to set foot"


	2. Chapter 2

To reach the cliff top is not this easy or quick; Rollo does not speak but Athelstan knows the long haired Norse is raging inwardly. Frankia! Whatever is the name of the Emperor, his troops show no mercy to Danes not that Danes are his friends. Frankia, a rabbit warren of Christianity! It has not escaped him everybody is wearing and showing a cross. A large rock half-loose makes him stumble and only sheer luck along the tail end of a spear quickly grabbed prevents his fall. The Frankish soldier smiles approvingly; whatever he says, he has saved his life… Not that it will change his fate; if he needs to kill him later, the gods 'will is not his to oppose.

Finally, they reach the top and the sea which has broken them free from the Viking invaders is dancing under the sun in the distance. The two women are standing near horses, immobile chatting about mysterious things that no doubt Athelstan will translate later.

"Rollo, my friend, I have explained why you do not understand or speak Frankish. In your North… the land of the Scoti, the Picti… (They wear tattoos like you) you have about no contact with the Empire… I also explained that you were baptised as Charlemagne rules no pagan is allowed to live in his realm… Live and stay alive if he is to remain a heathen… but you practise differently… as being from the North… from the North."

Now as he can see them more clearly, he realizes the dresses the females wear are different from the Saxon women he has met… not that he has met a lot of them. Like every Christian, they wear a veil on their head; but the difference stops here. The girl's is shiny like… like the fabled silk of the East and her head circlet is made of gold unless it is copper. Her side hair is free with a long plait in the back and … she waits. Rollo looks at her clearly interested as Athelstan prays at his friend stops at ogling the women: they do not need to affront the Franks.

Horses are quietly chewing whatever grass manages to grow on the sandy cliff top; and nobody moves. The Viking is going to get restless when two young lads younger than Bjorn when he first met him run to catch the horses' reins. If the Viking is not impressed at the laziness of the Frankish women, he is almost eruptive when he realizes that the boys are bending to allow the ladies to climb into a weird looking saddle. Unlike Lagertha and the women of his far off land, Frankish women do not ride astride. They sit sideways, and warriors are used to lift them up! ... And probably down on arrival. What a cumbersome saddle.

The girl mumbles whatever things which make everybody laugh including Athelstan as they take the direction of the church in the distance. Rollo does not like it but does he have a choice? There are too many Frankish soldiers to even the odds in his favour. He smiles; what else can he do?

"Ask them if … if they have seen our long ships… any long ship?"

If the question seems to have used few words, the answer is lengthy, involving more arms waving and the agitation of the old crone.

"Dorestadt was raided but the attackers could not get further inland than the piers. The Emperor was very angry. In retaliation, he ordered all the criminal … pagans … not only to be beheaded but … their hands were cut off as they were just … miserable thieves … which was … cruel? … As they died pagans. The lady says one should have tried to convert them first… once converted, they would have seen the error of their ways. Don't cough, Rollo. Smile. Remember, you are a good Christian from the North!"

Though long, this is not the answer he is looking for to his question. The Norseman pushes for more.

"If the Danes are raiding without sufficient warriors, it's their problem; not mine. Are we far from England? How far are we from the nearest harbour? Have they seen other ships like ours?... By Odin, why is it that it is a mere female who is lording over warriors? Are Franks so weak they allow their women to speak on their behalf? This is but a chit of a girl!"

Rollo may have intended to whisper but the tone of his growl is unmistakable. The Franks start pulling out their swords while Athelstan is wondering how to conjure a sword out of nowhere though with Ragnar's brother he feels quite confident the outcome of the fight may not yet be written in advance.

The old woman darts looks at them like when somebody has farted in the middle of a banquet. But all gets quiet as a ring of laughter explodes followed by more Frankish words. If Rollo still gets black looks from the soldiers, the maid's relaxed attitude about what must be looked as a trespass on polite behaviour has lifted up the atmosphere.

The Viking is not impressed; certainly he would shoot an answer back but he cannot and the minx knows it. Athelstan, always the diplomat born chatters as she grants an answer.

"Berenger Jarl - that's her father – says she talks too much … and she says she knows you should get along with her father on this subject! To answer you, they have seen no ships, these men you mention they live too up North like in your land… of the Scoti!"

"If Siggy was to ever bore me with such endless talking, I would … I would do nothing. Siggy is now Horik's bitch. Much good it does to him!"

Berenger's daughter does not reply though the glint in her eyes gives out that she must have understand somehow where the Viking is going at. She looks at him up and down, smiles like a cat and laughs some more. Rollo may wish to grab her and give her a spanking but Athelstan imperceptibly says no. Viking men can express physically their disagreement with their women; Franks seem the type of hapless fellows who suffer in silence. Lagertha, now that is a real woman, would scorn as such display of male weakness.

Regardless of the distress of the two shipwreck victims, the lady heels her mare and rides fast in front of them, veil flying in the wind. Sand flies all over along a veil, soon flying away from its owner. If he could, he would pull down to ground the crone and saddle in hot pursuit to this shameless girl. Disrespect. That is what it is. Plain disrespect. Yes, that's it. Disrespect. This country is made to be raided; deserves to be raided!

Further down the large path, a soldier picks up the head circlet. Unbeknowst to him, a Viking has pocketed the torn fabric of the veil. It is indeed silk. Silk! For this insulting girl, it is a flogging she deserves! Along chains!

Athelstan smiles and discusses more with the soldiers the whereabouts of the village and the church. Importantly how pagans are regarded in Neustria.

"This is Neustria, my friend. Its main city is Paris. A young city… compared to Rome. Still, it was the capital of the Empire not so long ago. Its kings are buried there. And there are old palaces, full of… treasures."

The last word is pronounced with regrets. Here, they are two castaways, saved by kind strangers yet all they do to thank them is to plan pillaging. Rollo, on the other hand dreams of gold, bullions, and the famously exotic pearls which must surely be found in the southern kingdom. Yes, treasures and a slave for his hall. A Frankish slave who will be personally earmarked for him!


	3. Chapter 3

When they finally reach the stronghold, it looks to Athelstan that like in his native land, the locals have made us of an old Roman fort, the walls being strengthened by wood planks though here, stonework has been employed a lot more. Contrary to England, stonemasonry is flourishing. He remembers the numerous quarries he had seen while travelling down on ship on the river which led to the old city further inland.

Rollo observes just as much but says nothing. As a supposed Northern Briton, barely civilized and unable to speak proper English or Latin, he prefers to stay silent as much as possible though his eyes try to register any potential weakness among the troop which lives in the compound.

Outside a group of men are discussing; a priest seems quite vocal. But the last word is to the older man. A man of power as a gold band circles his hair. A hand bearing a heavy signet is held out and men taller and stronger bow to it. If the local lord is old, his face bears the traces of battles he has won. Healed scars are visible and a cane is needed to correct a limp; still the back is straight and the grey-blue eyes are sharp. Old but not a fool while experience probably comes to the rescue of a weaker wrist. The lord is not a young chick but do not rule it out that he will take you to Valhalla while declining Odin's banquet offer.

A thick cloak with a wide red band and some precious fur rests on his shoulder to warm up his frame. Younger he must have been easily six feet, now in his autumn he looks tired. Still the voice is firm as he turns to the two survivors given back by the sea. It is a curt "Who are you?" which greets them.

"We are two Englisc men from Northumbria; we were sailing south hoping to escape long ships from the North Sea pirates when a sudden tempest has sunk our own boat and here we are, my lord. Where are we? I mean aside of the fact we know we are on the land of the Emperor…"

"The shores of Neustria, near Bayeux. Who are you? You, you have the hands of a secretary who has seen rough days and he may look like a great oaf but he does not fool me. A warrior born. Exiles?"

There is no shame in between an outcast as long one is not an outlaw. Athelstan knows the code of honour of warriors; if he looks like a clerk, Rollo has a natural imposing presence. An exile from the Northern lands of Britain can find sanctuary in Frankia with welcoming arms. His stature gives standing and ensures a position of leadership.

"King Aella of Northumbria is not his friend… though his bishop baptized him. He barely speaks Englisc; he is…"

"From the North! Do not waste my time by repeating what my ears have heard. I am not deaf!"

"No, you're not. You're blind"

The soldiers barely repress a smile. The old lord has been blinded by his daughter who stands behind him, covering his eyes with her hands.

"Poppa!"

The eyes are free again to see and two lips smack a kiss on his grey beard.

"You may not be deaf or blind. But you are growing to grow thin if you do not come to supper. Shall we walk upstairs together, our chaplain is getting fretful; you know how he is when the soup gets cold!"

"Is your master of noble birth?"

As Ragnar has risen from farmer to warrior and from earl to be called king since his 'minor' altercation with Horik, Athelstan can confirm that the brother of a … count is in sincere truth a true born aristocrat.

"You may share our meal then. Follow us!"

The Frank's manners leave room for warmth; still they are invited and climb into the highest tower. The square building is five real floors high. The wooden door at its entrance is thick and hardened by strong nails, the first floor leaves room for an armoury, the next floor shows a hall; up floors are probably private chambers and no man until admitted in the confidence of … Berenger as it is probably him would dare to climb higher up unless he would plan his death. Frankish men are not known to welcome strangers in their woman folk quarters.

From the table setting, ranks are defined. Sitting in the middle on a high chair Berenger with his daughter at is left, Rollo at his right and further down in rank Athelstan. At the left of Poppa, the chaplain, then a lady-in-waiting and then layers after layers of the Frankish cast system which here is limited to the officers and pages who are youths born into the nobility.

The food is good though a bit different, richer in Southern spices. The emperor entertains envoys from the East; the Far East. With the colourful diplomats come trades and exchanged gifts such as ivory, balsam, silks and pearls. A lot of pearls… Like the huge eardrops hanging from the ears of the maid.

Wine flows and not one flagon of mead or beer are offered to them. Rollo feels thirsty and his head reels from the wine he has been drinking. His neighbour asks him questions translated more or less faithfully by his brother's Christian slave or ex-slave. Athelstan gives answers he suspects adapted to the recipient.

"We are exiled, both of us. I have left Northumbria and we have met there where you … saved my life. A count has caused a rift between you and your brother… so you have to fight your way. Less you speak the better!"

This is given with thoughtful eyes, like the ex-priest was trying to find words.

"Berenger is related … oh…to the Emperor. He is the son of …a bastard?... He is the son of Charles the Hammer's bastard! Rollo, this is … amazing!"

"Franks fight with war hammers. Everybody fights with hammers. Thor has a ham…"

"Never pronounce this word"

The warning comes through an unstoppable laughing fit.

"Rollo, Rollo, my friend. You are a Christian. These people have massacred more than four thousand Saxons who were pagans who simply had refused to convert. Never mention your Gods or we are dead in the next instant"

Rollo says nothing, looking at the chaplain like a wolf who has been deprived of his favourite bone and smiles. Smiles simply like a wolf that waits for his prey to venture out.

"How is your master's land? Is it true it rains every day? I have been told of giant fish which blow water like the garden waterfalls of our cousin at Aix. And snow. Not like our winters, but snow and very short nights and…"

"And this poor man would like to answer to your first question!"

Poppa smiles to Rollo who smiles back. The merry smile of a doe who does not realize she has just walked into the net of a cunning predator.


	4. Chapter 4

As we know, season 2 has seen the passing of King Horik. As such this story must respect the canon. The Maid of Bayeux will be rewritten to offer an alternate universe prior to M Hirst new season 3. Still we know the siege of Paris happens and well Rollo becomes at one point Duke of Normandy and ?brother in law, ?son in law to the king of France. The Maid of Bayeux will return soon and this will be renamed…


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